Home For Christmas
by Crystal Sampson
Summary: Sam goes to the first place he can think of that's safe and quiet and not Stanford. He just needs some time to get his head on straight and to get away from ... him.
1. Chapter 1

This was another entry for the triple play back in November. It's a little rough. Standard Disclaimer applies.  
 _ **Warning: Mentions of rape.**_

* * *

Bobby had just settled into a much needed night of leisure on his couch with a finger of whiskey and baseball on the television when there was a creak on his front porch followed by a gentle knock. He glanced out the window. It was pitch black and snowing balls out there. Nobody in their right minds would be out in this mess. If this was another bout of church do-gooders, he'd give them a piece of his mind.

On the couch next to him. Rumsfeld lifted his head and sniffed. No howling meant it was at least someone the dumb dog knew and, judging by the rate his tale was going, someone he liked. He gave a single yip, before bounding off the couch towards the door, leaving Bobby scrambling to hold onto his drink.

The knocking came again, louder this time. Bobby heaved himself to his feet, groaning and grumbling the whole way to the front door. He grabbed the shotgun he kept next to the coat stand, cocked it, and cracked the door so that Rummy wouldn't go running out in the snow.

Whoever he might have expected, it wasn't Sam Winchester.

The boy was thin as a rail and at least a foot taller than he had been the last time Bobby saw him, although it took him a minute to see it the way he was hunched against the wind. He was also standing in a foot of snow in light canvas sneakers and a coat that had been patched over at least three times too many, with a single bag slung over his shoulder.

"Sam?" Bobby said, sure he was seeing things.

"Hey, Bobby," He said. He offered a smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Sorry to show up unannounced, but I needed somewhere to crash for the night. I was hoping…"

"Hell, boy. Get in before you freeze to death. What were you thinking, showing up in South Dakota in December without a real coat?"

Sam chuckled and stepped into the hallway. Bobby kept a careful eye as he stepped over the salt line, but the boy didn't even flinch. Instead he knelt and greeted Rumsfeld who was jumping up and making a scene like he was a puppy again. When Sam straightened up, Bobby handed him his silver plated flask and watched as he sipped the holy water. When he was through, he handed the flask back and stood there staring at the floor.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said, quietly. "Is it okay if I stay with you?"

"Course it is, ya idjit. I'm not going to toss you out in the snow. Take off those wet shoes and I'll see if there's still coffee in the kitchen."

When Sam finally did shuffle into the kitchen, he seemed even smaller than he had standing on the porch. He had dark circles under his eyes and the coloring of a ghost. He sat down at the table and sort of curled in on himself, cradling his coffee in his hands for the warmth. Rummy laid down across his feet, like the attention whore he was.

"Not that I'm not pleased to see you," Bobby said, sitting down across from him with his own cup of coffee, "But I figured you'd be living it up out in California. Got to be a damn sight warmer down that way."

Sam's smile looked more like a grimace. "We're on winter break. I just needed to get out for a while. Clear my head, you know?"

Bobby shrugged. "Okay." They lapsed into silence and Bobby watched as Sam just stared into his coffee. For lack of anything better to say, he asked, "How's it going out there? Classes okay? Making friends?"

This time Sam really did smile. He even met Bobby's eye. "Yeah. I'm pre-law. I've been working really hard and it's all starting to come together." Sam blushed and looked down into his mug again. "I even met a girl."

"That so," Bobby said.

"Yeah. Her name's Jessica. We met at the shop where I work. I think I might really love her, Bobby."

"Really? Sounds like you're doing pretty good for yourself."

"Yeah," Sam's face fell and he went back to nursing his coffee. He seemed to conduct some sort of internal debate before he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I know I'm not much company. It's been a really long day. Would it be okay if I turned in?"

"'Course. The usual room's free. Haven't changed the sheets in ages. Might be a little dusty, but it's a bed."

"Thanks. It's perfect." Sam rose, setting his mug on the table, coffee practically untouched. "Any way you could not tell Dean I'm here?"

Bobby blinked. He hadn't even considered calling either of the other Winchesters. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Sam relaxed, some of the tension falling from his shoulders. "Thanks, Bobby. Night."

"Night, Sam."

Sam shuffled out under Bobby's watchful gaze. Something wasn't right with that boy. Rummy whined from his spot on the floor. He was staring after Sam and glancing at Bobby as if expecting him to do something. "I ain't got a clue," he told the mutt.

Rumsfeld, apparently not satisfied with that answer, jumped up and chased after the boy. Bobby was left staring after both of them, all thoughts of a quiet night of baseball forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby was sure Sam didn't sleep a wink that night. When he went to bed, the light was still on in the guest room and when he got up, Sam had already been up and made breakfast. As Bobby stomped into the kitchen in search of his morning cup of coffee, he was greeted by a small spread of toast, eggs, and bacon. Sam was already sitting and playing with a plate of eggs.

"I hope you don't mind," he said with a small smile. "I figured I could at least make breakfast since I invaded your house."

Bobby loaded a plate. "Boy, you keep this up and I'll pay you to live here. 'Sides, you're welcome to stay however long you want. You know that."

"I was going to set out milk, but I'm pretty sure it's growing."

"There was milk in there?"

Sam snorted and went back to pushing eggs around his plate. "Do you mean it?"

"What?"

"You don't mind if I stay a little while?"

Bobby looked up at him sharply. "Sam, I've always told you boys you're welcome here whenever you need. Don't expect a red carpet or anything, but you've got a roof and a bed here. Now quit being a girl and pass that bacon."

Sam chuckled and passed the plate over. "You're heart attack on a plate, sir."

"At least I'll die happy."

The laughter only lasted a few seconds before the silence was back. Finally, Bobby couldn't stand it any longer. "You gonna stare at those eggs all day, or you gonna eat them?"

Sam jerked up. "Oh! Uh…umm, I don't think I'm as hungry as I thought I was."

Bobby frowned. He might not be Dean, but Sam had always had an appetite. At one point, Bobby had worried that between them, they'd eat him out of house and home. "Sam, did something happen?"

He just smiled. "Nah, it was just a rough semester."

Bobby hmmed in response but didn't call him out on the lie. "There's a new stack of books I haven't gone through in the study if you want to take a look. There's some old mythologies in there you might like."

"Okay," he said. He scraped his plate into the trash and deposited it in the sink.

"I'll be out in the back garage if you need me. I have a few things to take care of today."

Sam nodded then ducked out of the kitchen. Bobby finished his breakfast and moved on to his morning work. The garage was more like an extension of the house. It was insulated and heated so that he could work during the winter without having to battle the elements. He had run his phone lines out there too, just in case. His mind wandered as he began tinkering on the old Chevy he'd pulled in yesterday.

He was worried about Sam. The kid was quiet, withdrawn. He seemed to be staying as small as he could and he was starting to resemble a raccoon. About an hour into his work, Sam joined him. He brought a book and a blanket and curled up in the corner chair, quietly keeping Bobby company. Sam might not be much of a conversationalist at the moment, but it was nice to have someone else there. Bobby hadn't realized how much he'd missed the boys.

Sometime later in the day, decided to take a break and walked over to see what Sam was reading. The kid must have been really into whatever it was because when Bobby set his hand on Sam's shoulder, Sam shot out of his seat and was across the room in a matter of seconds.

He stood across from Bobby, wide eyed and panting as though he'd run a marathon. Bobby couldn't do anything but stare. "Sam?"

Sam made an effort to calm his breathing. "Sorry. You startled me. I didn't realize you were behind me."

Bobby knew better than most what Sam and Dean's typically reactions to being startled were, and it usually ended in bruises. That wasn't startled. Even now, his pupils were dilated and Bobby was pretty sure he was still coursing with adrenaline. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just going to go, uh, start dinner. Yeah."

Sam fled up the steps and Bobby was left watching, slack jawed. He gave Sam a good ten minutes then followed, peaking around the door between the garage and the kitchen. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, swiping his hands across his face to wipe away tears. Bobby frowned, but ducked out to give him time to collect himself. When he came back a half hour later, Sam had soup on the stove and toast in the oven.

He barely said two words over dinner and fled to his room by seven o'clock.

Bobby let him go. The kid was obviously embarrassed. Bobby spent a couple of hours organizing the new book arrivals, but ultimately decided to turn in early himself.

He put away the leftover soup, checked his wards and all the various protections he had in place, brushed his teeth, and set out fresh water for Rumsfeld before finally climbing the stairs to his room. On his way down the hall, he passed by the bathroom and heard a gasp followed by a soft curse. He paused to listen. He could hear Sam rummaging in the cabinet under the sink and swearing.

Finally, Bobby was too worried to listen anymore. He knocked. "Sam? You in there?"

"Yeah." He sounded strained and Bobby's concern ratcheted up a notch.

"Open the door."

There was a long pause.

"Sam!"

"It's unlocked," he said.

Bobby tried the knob and, as promised, the door swung open. What he saw nearly made him gag. Sam's hands were covered in blood. It was dripping into the sink and he had managed to smudge a bit on the mirror. Bobby could tell he'd been rummaging for something to make the bleeding stop, but the only thing Bobby kept in the bathroom was a box of Band-Aids and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. His first aid kit was in his bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell happened in here?"

Sam stared up at him. Bobby had never seen a look of fear directed at him like that before. It made him feel about ten inches high and he wasn't even sure what he had done. "It's not what it looks like. I swear," Sam said and Bobby's gut clenched. "I dropped my razor. It caught my palm. I can't find anything to wrap it in."

Bobby swore, seeing the razor in question in the bowl of the sink. "And you couldn't've hollered?" He said, grabbing up a spare hand towel.

Sam jerked his hand away. "Don't ruin your towel!"

"Forget the damn towel," Bobby said, grabbing his wrist. "It'll wash. You're bleeding!"

Bobby wrapped his hand, flipped the toilet lid down, and pushed him to sit on the seat. "Stay. Leave that hand wrapped and don't you dare move from there until I get back."

"Yes, sir." Sam muttered.

Bobby scrambled to grab his kit and get back to Sam. By the time he did, there was already a lot of blood seeping into the towel. "How deep did that actually get you?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. It didn't feel that deep, but it was pretty long."

Bobby grunted and motioned for the hand. "I've got to take a look. You're probably going to need stitches. Try to hold still so I don't hurt you more than I have to."

Sam offered up his hand and Bobby unwrapped it as gently as he could. Sam winced, but didn't jerk away. The gash was long. It started just under his left index finger and ran down, over the heel of his hand onto his wrist. An inch more to the left and they would have been making a trip to the hospital. "Damn boy. You did it good didn't you?"

Sam glanced at his own hand and turned a little green.

"You gonna puke on me?"

Sam swallowed and looked away. He shook his head but Bobby wasn't convinced. "I've got to stitch this up. It's going to hurt. If you got to puke, you warn me. I don't want to make it worse 'cause you moved on me."

Sam nodded, still not looking at the gash. Bobby took up his needle and set to work. As he sewed, he tried to distract Sam. "What were you doing in here?"

"I just wanted a shower." He could hear a hint of frustration in Sam's voice.

Bobby glanced around and sure enough, the kid's duffle sat behind the door and he had pulled a towel out to hang over the rack. His kit was lying spilled across the sink. Seeing the evidence relaxed the tight knot of worry that had clenched in Bobby's gut. He wasn't convinced that Sam hadn't done it on purpose, he'd been acting strangely withdrawn lately, but all signs pointed to it being an accident.

"And you didn't yell when you hurt yourself?"

Sam shrugged. "I didn't want to bother you."

"Son, you're not bothering me. I'd rather you not bleed out in my bathroom when I've got a first aid kit and can patch you up." He worked in silence for a minute before he realized Sam's breathing had gone a little harsh again. "Sam?"

He glanced up and found Sam staring at the floor, tears welling in his eyes.

"Sam, take a breath for me. You're fine. I'm almost done. It'll heal up just fine."

Sam nodded, not really calming. "Sam," Bobby said sternly. Sam froze. "I get that you're freaked out, but I need you to try to calm down," he said as he set the last stitch. It was unusual for him to be this upset over a couple of stitches.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

"For what?"

"For being so much trouble."

"You're not trouble."

"I shouldn't have come here," Sam continued. "I just – I couldn't stay there any longer and I didn't know where else to go. Dad said stay gone and even if he did let me come back, he'd never let me leave again and I just needed a break."

"Whoa, whoa," Bobby said quietly. He cleaned the hand and gently wrapped it in gauze. When he was done, he moved to look Sam in the eye, bending down awkwardly. "I'm not mad and I'm not kicking you out. But something's going on, Sam. You need to tell me what happened."

Sam's head dipped even further. "I can't," he whispered.

Bobby took a deep breath. When he felt a little calmer he asked, "Why not."

"Because you won't want anything to do with me once you know."

"Sam, look at me." He wait for Sam to glance up. "I promise there's nothing you can say that will make me not want you here."

"You'll think I'm disgusting. I am disgusting."

"I doubt that." They sat that way another minute. "Sam? What happened?"


	4. Chapter 4

Sam's shoulders slumped. "I was pledging to this fraternity. It was sort of a dare. My roommate thought I didn't have the guts to do it. If I stayed in until I was eliminated, I would get two hundred bucks. It was stupid, but I needed the cash and it was a laugh. I figured they'd cut me after the first round. I'm not exactly frat material."

Bobby waited for him to continue.

"There was this guy, Matt. He was, well, Matt. Most of the guys thought it was funny to do things like make the pledges wear aprons and bunny ears or run naked across the football field at midnight. Stupid guy pranks. But Matt was different. He would make a guy strip in the middle of the quad in front of everyone at lunch and if he didn't, he'd paddle him then and there. He would smack some of the smaller kids around at parties and I know he did off limits sorts of thing to several of the guys."

Sam paused for a breath. Bobby almost wanted to ask what exactly off limits meant, but he knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"I made it farther than I meant to. In round three, you get assigned to a mentor – a big brother sort of thing. I was originally supposed to be with Spencer, who was in on the joke and had just about decided to take pity on me and cut me. But last minute, Matt wanted to trade pledges. I ended up with him.

"At first it wasn't so bad. He's an asshole, but he just had me do stupid things like carry his lunch or spot him in the gym. But then he wanted me to do his homework and threatened me if I didn't. I refused. Cited the fraternal code of conduct back at him thinking it was a test. He got pissed and threatened to make me regret it.

"I figured he was an asshole, but he was still just a student and I could always go to the advising professor and turn him in if I had to. I let it slip to Spence what had gone down and he agreed to back me if it came down to it.

"I thought that was going to be the end of it. I didn't hear anything from Matt for about week. Then one night, out of the blue, he asked me to meet him on the soccer field at midnight. I got a weird vibe but I went anyway. I brought along my knife just in case.

"When I showed up, Matt was there in his full fraternity get up, along with two other guys with their hoods up. They jumped me, Bobby. I tried to get free, I swear. They were huge and knew their stuff."

Sam looked at him pleading. "You've got to believe me. I tried every trick I knew."

Bobby nodded. "I'm sure you did. Wouldn't expect anything else."

Sam stared at his hand, picking at the edge of the tape on his bandage. "I don't know. It all happened so fast, but suddenly there weren't just three of them anymore and they…"

Bobby shifted so he was sitting back. "What Sam? I know this is hard, but it will help to talk about it."

Sam swallowed and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, it was eerily calm. "Someone was taking pictures. They tied me down to these stakes in the ground, only they weren't like wooden stakes, these things had to be metal and pretty deep because they wouldn't budge. And they did things." Sam shuddered.

Bobby had a sickening feeling he knew exactly what had gone down, but he had to ask. "What kinds of things?"

"They made me suck most of them off," Sam said matter-of-factly. "They would hold my nose so I couldn't breathe unless I opened my mouth and one of them found my knife and they were rubbing it up and down my thigh…

"I did it. I'm not saying I didn't, but I didn't have much of a choice. At some point they got bored and flipped me so they could-" His words choked off and he swallowed thickly. Bobby waited. He was trying to be patient. "They…they raped me, Bobby."

By this point, Sam was crying and scrubbing viciously at the tears. "They had a cock cage that they fastened onto me before they let me up. When they untied me, Matt flipped through all the photos. He made a tutting noise. Said he didn't realize I was into pornography and that it was grounds for dismissal from the school, which is true. He said if I ever told anyone what happened he'd release the photos. Warned he'd be checking on the cage and it had better still be in place when he did. Then they just left.

"I stumbled into my dorm around three that morning. They'd taken my clothes, but someone had dropped my knife in the grass next to me. I walked in and my roommate saw everything, dried spunk, rope burns, all of it. Asked me if I'd had a good night."

Sam shuddered.

When he'd been quiet for a moment, Bobby prompted him. "Did you go to anyone?"

Sam shrugged, "At first, no. I was too scared. I can take on a vampire or a werewolf, but I was scared of a pack of preppy twenty year olds." A bitter chuckle escaped him. "I could have picked the lock on the cage in five seconds flat, but I remembered what Matt had said. Eventually Spencer found me and said he'd overheard Matt and a couple of guys bragging about it. Apparently the rest of the guys were pissed and pushed me to go to the administration. I spoke with a councilor first, to make sure everything was confidential. She urged me to bring the matter at least to the academic jury if not the police. When I finally did, they seized the photos. Matt, for being a diabolical dick, wasn't apparently very good at covering his tracks and whoever took the photos had included enough of the other students to prove it had been the fraternity. When they threatened to shut the organization down, the ones responsible were forced to come forward. Most of them had already been caught out bragging.

"They all got jail time. Matt served the longest, but it was only about a month. He got out about a week ago. He'd been leaving threatening messages even before he got out. He broke into my apartment once and harassed Jessica a couple of times. I have a restraining order against him, but with everyone gone for break, he's been worse. I just couldn't be there any longer.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it to your house."

Bobby straightened up. "Ain't none of that your fault. If he wants to follow you here, let him. I got a shotgun full of rock salt that will make him think twice about coming round here again. Won't kill him, but it will smart like a bitch. And I'm a personal friend with the sheriff. In fact, I hope he tries something, 'cause I'll have his ass on a platter then. Might still."

"Please, don't. That's exactly what I worry about. If Dean found out, he'd do something stupid and actually get arrested. I just want to forget for a little while."

"Sam, the problem won't go away because you ignore it."

"I know. And if I have to, I'll finish it, but I don't want to be that person. I left to get away from all that."

Sam fell silent. Bobby wasn't sure what to say.

"So, are you absolutely disgusted with me yet?"

"I told you before. None of that was your fault."

"I feel like I'll never be clean again."

"You're not dirty, Sam." After a moment he rose. "Come on, let's get you to bed. My knees aren't what they used to be." He held a hand out for Sam, who stood and followed him to the spare room. Bobby waited for him to climb into the bed a lay down before he pulled the chair over from its place against the wall.

He leaned forward to look Sam in the eye. "I don't want to ask, Sam, but I feel like I need to. What happened with your hand, was that really an accident?"

"God, yes. I swear. There are easier ways to go about it than slicing your palm open. Not very discrete either. Plus it fucking hurt."

Somehow that didn't comfort Bobby like it was supposed to, but he let it be. "Okay. Just get some rest. The rest can wait till in the morning."

"Would you…" Sam hesitated. He seemed younger somehow. "You don't have to, and I understand if it's weird, but…would you stay? Just for a little while? I know it's stupid…"

"It's not stupid. I'm not going anywhere." He leaned over and grabbed a book off the night stand. It was a collection of Greek folklore. "I'm just going to sit here and read for a little while."

Sam smiled thinly. "Thanks, Bobby."

Sam fell asleep about ten pages into the book, but Bobby didn't move. He felt like he needed to keep watch, at least for the night. He wondered what Dean was doing now and if he should call him. If Sam wasn't doing better by the time he left for school again, he would. Someone needed to teach this Matt kid he didn't mess with a hunter's kid.

Bobby dozed off a half dozen pages later glad that, despite the circumstances, at least one of his boys would be home for Christmas.


End file.
